They say the opposite of love is not hate
It’s just indifference
And because
those who seem to love me
those who really know me enough to love me
seem so few and far between
They say the opposite of love is not hate
It’s just indifference
And because
those who seem to love me
those who really know me enough to love me
seem so few and far between
That I wish to be hated
wish for angry looks
eye rolls
scowls
not just
indifference
I don’t think
I have ever been hated
not really, truly hated
yes, I’ve been disliked
distrusted
Have had people turn away
But it was more like disinterest
standing in the rain
Waiting
For someone to look my way
And I know this sounds like I’m just
Waiting to be discovered
But maybe it’s more like
I’m waiting to discover
Waiting to find a way to be hated
Waiting to find a way
To stop crying alone in my room
With my cat
And pocket fulls of those
Awful Fig Newtons
My friend’s mother
Keeps giving to me
But I’m too polite to refuse
And someday
I know
I will be hated
I look forward
To having someone look me in the eye
And say
Claire
You are such a bitch
And I’m not delusional enough to think
That someone hasn’t said that
about me
already
But I want them to say it
to my face
Because every once in awhile
It’s nice to know that you matter
It’s nice to know that
someone cares enough about me
To hate me
Because the one thing I cannot stand
Is apathy
Indifference
To be ignored
To be forgotten
And I look forward to that day
Because right now I feel all that I am doing
Is looking backwards
At all the incredibly awkward
Things I have said
or done
And although in those
Twelve whole years I’ve been alive
It doesn’t seem like there would be enough time
For so many unspoken words
But somehow there is
And maybe it’s just the hormones
coursing through my veins
Or the fact that I spend
So much of my time
In my room
Reading about long dead urban planners
But sometimes I feel like I should just stop
Thinking
so
much
Because sometimes
All those words
Seem to just pile up
Like that shrine of stuffed animals
I have under my bed
And eventually get forgotten
Or I get lost in the thoughts
I climb under my bed
And hide in those stuffed animals
all
day
Long
Because sometimes it’s good to be six years old again
But sometimes it’s also good
To crawl out from
Under my bed
Bring those thoughts
Out
Into the light
Because maybe if I bring one of those
old stuffed animals
Out into the light
And give it to my cat
She may hate it
But also
What if she loves it?
And even if you are hated
It’s better than collecting dust
Underneath my bed
And if you’ve survived this incredible
Dose of angst
Maybe some of it makes sense?
because
Being hated sucks
I’ve watched mean girls enough times
To attest that that’s probably true
But sometimes if you hate something
Oh so much
It’s easier to start to love it
Then not to care?
And maybe because
I’m a chronic idealist
I believe that if everyone just started to care
If everyone dropped that shield of apathy
And indifference
Maybe some things would get better
My father once told me
That the best people
Are those who think about something
Besides people
Besides caring what someone else does
Or thinks
And I agree
I have met some really shitty people
Who I can’t help but admire
Because they know what they love
And they love what they know
Because it’s nice to see someone
Who loves
But I also disagree
With what my father
Told me
Because sometimes it’s good
to think
About people
Sometimes it’s good to know
People are thinking about you
But I think
What he really meant
was that I shouldn’t let
The people
Become me
It’s good to care
It’s great
Actually
But I don’t want that feeling
To become me
And since my claustrophobia
And my introversion
Clearly mandate
That sometimes
I need space
if only everyone just took a second
To notice
Maybe they could
hate
And I’m not saying
That everyone
Has to love
everything
I mean
Somethings about me
Are pretty
Worthy to hate
Like all those times
I ignore the recycling bin
Or the fact that I
Take an hour to decide
What kind of candy
I want in my junk drawer
But there are some things
To love about everyone
Like the time I cried
For hours after accidentally
Killing a spider
Or when I organized
My cabin to recite
Howl by Allen Ginsberg
But when everyone is
So complicated
The one thing
We shouldn’t do
Is not to notice
Don’t let the possibility
Of hate
Overwhelm you
Because you know
At the end of Mean Girls
Kady is loved
Once again